


The Deep Blue Sea

by Lochinvar



Series: Amuse-bouche [2]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Boys In Love, First Kiss, First Time, Fluff, Happy, M/M, No Plot/Plotless, One Shot, Purple Prose, Sam Winchester Takes Care of Dean Winchester, happy tears
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-26
Updated: 2018-05-26
Packaged: 2019-05-14 00:39:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 614
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14759322
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lochinvar/pseuds/Lochinvar
Summary: Sam makes Dean happy. Dean thinks, finally, that this might be okay. Sam can't stop smiling.





	The Deep Blue Sea

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Linden](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Linden/gifts), [InTheGreySpaces](https://archiveofourown.org/users/InTheGreySpaces/gifts).



> Based on a real incident. Really.
> 
> Own nothing; rely on the kindness of strangers.
> 
> Kudos and comments appreciated - thank you.

Dean says  _Yes, but Sammy, we take it slow._

So Sam is taking it slow.

Sam strums the tips of his fingers over Dean’s ribs. Down and back. Hypnotic. Taking his time, persistent, until he’s matching the rhythms of his older brother’s breath and heartbeat, then taking them both slow and slower, more pressure, moving over and smoothing muscle and blood and bone, until Dean is inhaling and exhaling like waves rolling onto a shallow beach, the water clear as glass.

Taking it slow, slower still, and Dean follows. Now, he weighs nothing. The palm of Sam’s hand strays, retracing the path of his fingertips, scribing circles, calming his brother’s body, and coaxing it further into the depths.

Dean sinks to the bottom of this unfamiliar sea.

He’s been playing catch and release with a parade of lovers since puberty slammed him off the dock when he was 14 and he learned to swim the hard way.

He has danced in the storms that brew from the butterfly flutter of a first chaste kiss, ending in mountains of waves tumbling on top of themselves, buffeted by hurricane winds, until his small boat climbed up the sides, slid and fell, and reached the eye of the storm, floating in peace.

But this feeling, held in place by the steady, silent movement of his brother’s broad hand, is new.

Dean is not up top, clinging to the riggings. He’s anchored in the dark, silent waters where the ocean’s floor bends back on itself, where continents slow dance and lava burns in black water.

He knows what it’s like to be targeted by his Sam’s scrutiny, pinned to a chair while his brother stitches up the bloody tattoo left by a matching set of were claws. Or when Sam listens to Dean’s running down the details of the latest plan to save the world. The younger brother is memorizing every gear in the machinery of salvation Dean constructs, despite the fact that the first casualty in any war, as the Winchesters and their allies know too well, is the plan.

But this is different. There is Dean, there is Sam, and nothing else. And even if the world is ending, again, Dean thinks that Sam will not be distracted from this task: his hand on Dean’s body. Taking it slow.

Dean wants Sam to hurry up. Can’t believe that anyone, even his apparently besotted baby brother, who, since Dean said yes and the sea wall fell, has been behaving as if Dean is precious. Special. Loved. So, hurry up, Sammy, he thinks (he can’t seem to find the words to warn his brother out loud), get whatever you are doing over with. You’ll change your mind soon enough. Need to get going while the going is good.

The sea floor cracks and shifts. Something in Dean’s core stirs. He starts to panic, but Sam won’t stop. Won’t go faster. The magma breaks through the mantle and flows through the crust, pouring into and through Dean’s body, drowning his lungs, burning his eyes, an underwater tsunami that moves at the speed of tectonic plates.

And he cries out, bucking against an invisible tide.

Sam holds him down, one-handed. A fall of tears spills across Sam's cheeks, kin to the ones that made his eyes glow in that field lit up with fireworks, decades before.

Dean wakes up to his brother’s gaze. He smiles. Inhales as if he is again in that coffin where Sammy laid him out, taking his first living breath after forty years of Hell. Just like that. When his arms start working he reaches for his brother, for their first kiss in their new lives.

 

 

 

 

 


End file.
